


Winning Isn't Everything

by acaelousqueadcentrum



Category: Rookie Blue
Genre: F/F, Fic Bet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-03-08 16:11:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3215360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acaelousqueadcentrum/pseuds/acaelousqueadcentrum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Holly's team loses, but Gail makes it better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winning Isn't Everything

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ragingscooter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ragingscooter/gifts).



> This fic is the result of a bet that I lost. The Seahawks beat the Packers, and I was prompted with the following: HOLLY'S A SEATTLE FAN AND SHE COMES HOME TO GAIL WEARING HER FOOTBALL JERSEY WHILE PLAYING MADDEN 2014 AND SHE PLAYS CHEERLEADER FOR GAIL.

Holly walked into the foyer of the home she shared with her girlfriend and stomped her feet to clear the snow off her boots.

It had been a long, long Monday at work.

There was a stack of reports needing her signature, a couple of consults that she had to get to sooner rather than later, a new intern to train, and, unfortunately, another two cases of death due to this winter’s terrible flu outbreak.

She’d worked through lunch and stayed past her usual departure time and still, when she finally locked the door of her office behind her, there was work left undone.

And to top it all off, she was exhausted and, to be honest, a little depressed.

Her Seahawks had lost the Superbowl the night before.

By one point.

In overtime.

It had been heartbreaking.

Her team had put up quite a fight—nothing like their last game against the Packers, where for the most part they’d trailed and looked more like a pee-wee league than a pro-football team—and had played their hearts out.

But it just wasn’t enough. And in the end, their inability to make a two-point conversion in the second quarter of overtime had sealed their fate.

Tom Brady and his Patriots had taken the Lombardi trophy home with them once again, and Russell Wilson and his fellow Seahawks had returned home to Seattle empty-handed.

Holly had been crushed. Mostly because she really wanted Seattle to get that second straight win, to break the curse of no team being able to secure back-to-back Superbowl championships since 2004 when the Patriots, of all teams, had done it.

And also, of course, because she’d gotten a bit cocky at work and made a bet with Randy, her lab assistant, about the outcome of the game.

Which explained the horrendous Brady jersey she’d been forced to wear today.

All day.

And she couldn’t cover it up or wear her lab coat or anything like that unless she was actually doing an autopsy. And she had to eat lunch in the Medical Complex cafeteria, where everyone could see her shame.

All day long she’d walked around feeling like Hester Prynne, the red-outlines of Brady’s number twelve burning into her chest like Hawthorne’s symbol of the cost that pride exacts on the human heart.

But now, at last, her day was over. At long last she could shed the badge of her shame, the symbol of her team’s inability to overcome the odds against them and take down those cocky New England bastards and their cheating bum of a coach.

She put her hands up against the wall and kicked off her boots one-by-one before hanging up her coat. And then, quickly, quickly stripping off the offending jersey, throwing it in the direction of the laundry room, eager to be rid of its offending weight, the dark labyrinth that her pride had cast upon her.

"Gail," she called out, "Gail?"

~ * ~

She found her girlfriend in what was meant to be Gail’s office but had too quickly become Gail’s game room, desk and reading lamp pushed aside in favor of the old living room couch and a large tv connected to several different game systems at any given moment.

"Hey, baby," her beautiful blonde said, sitting there on the couch in the Twelfth Man jersey that Holly had deposited into the hamper sadly the night before as she silently stripped down and got ready for bed after the game ended.

In the jersey and, from what Holly could see, nothing else.

"What’s this," Holly asked, stepping into the room and looking around. The "Go Seahawks" banner that Holly had hung up in the living room last night was strung up over Gail’s flat screen TV. The bright green and silver and blue balloons she’d spent over an hour blowing up yesterday afternoon were taped up, complete with streamers, on the ceiling.

The table where Gail and her friends liked to prop up their feet and set down their drinks while they played was covered in junk food—a pizza from their favorite delivery place, cupcakes with neon green frosting and silver “12s,” a bowl of cheese puffs and what looked like a fresh bag of the veggie chips that Gail always mocked her for eating. Everything they’d put together for yesterday’s game, Gail had recreated the whole thing.

"The Superbowl, Holly," Gail said, tossing Holly a package wrapped in silver tissue paper, "did you forget? Your Seahawks? The Patriots? You and me and all the beer I want to drink as long as I sit next to you and don’t complain." She stood and grabbed for Holly’s arm, pulling the doctor toward the couch. "Holly, I can’t believe you forgot!"

"But, honey," Holly said, her brow furrowed with confusion, "the game was—"

"—about to start, nerd. The game is about to start. So hurry up and open your present so we can watch."

Gail’s clear blue eyes sparkled with mischief, but it was a kind of well-meaning mischief, the kind that Gail usually arranged to somehow make Holly feel better whenever she was down. So she didn’t push, she didn’t ask. Instead, she smiled, and sat down on the couch next to her girlfriend.

Inside the tissue paper—carefully removed and folded for future use, of course—was a brand new Seattle Seahawks jersey. Russell Wilson’s #3 home jersey, in fact.

"Gail," Holly started, her voice trailing off, "honey?"

"It was supposed to be a victory present, but I couldn’t wait, so now I’m going to wear your old one and you get to wear your new one while we watch your team crush the enemy."

Holly reached up to tangle her fingers in her girlfriend’s short locks of hair, “Okay, but honey—”

"—Hurry up, Hols, seriously. Kickoff is in five minutes and I want a goodluck kiss before the coin toss, babe."

Gail snuck her finger in under the strap of Holly’s white undershirt—there was no way she was letting that Patriots jersey actually touch her skin, after all—and teased at the skin there, smiling when she heard the brunette’s sharp intake of breath. And then she laughed, and grabbed at the fabric and pulled it up, up over Holly’s head, laughing when the doctor’s glasses got in the way.

~ * ~

Fifteen minutes later and Holly’s work clothes were strewn all over the room.

"Okay," Gail said softly as she pulled from Holly’s lips, smoothing the stiff fabric of Wilson’s number down over her girlfriend’s back, "but now seriously, the coin toss. We’ve got some very large, very strong men waiting on us, babe."

Holly leaned back just the slightest from where she was straddling her girlfriend’s lap and cupped Gail’s face in her hands.

"Gail, babe," she said, caressing the blonde’s cheeks, "what are you going on about? What is all this?"

The police officer was silent for a moment, her hands running up and down the bare skin of Holly’s thigh.

"It’s just," she started, "I know how disappointed you were about the game, and having to wear that stupid shirt from your stupid intern today."

"Coworker," Holly interjected, "assistant, technically."

Gail smirked and leaned forward to kiss at Holly’s lips.

"Whatever. Anyway, I just thought maybe we could have a do-over." She kissed her girlfriend again and then turned on the tv.

When Holly turned to look at the screen, she felt everything in her go soft. She felt everything in her fill with the warmth of loving this woman, this amazing, smart, funny, sexy, big-hearted woman. Because what she saw on the screen was the newest edition of Madden, all queued up to a game between her Seahawks and the New England Patriots.

"Gail," she asked quietly, turning back to her girlfriend.

"You were just so disappointed, Hol. So since I had the day off I went to pick up the newest edition and got you a jersey and I thought we could have a second Superbowl. A better one. I’ll play and you’ll cheer while me and Russell kick those Patriots all the way back to wherever they come from. And this time we can celebrate when your Seahawks win."

For a moment, Holly was silent.

For a moment, Holly just looked into Gail’s eyes, exactly the color of the sky on a perfect summer day, her own brown ones warm and wet.

"Baby," she said, and then lowered her lips to Gail’s again, kissing her gently, softly. And then after a few minutes of slow, deep kisses, "I love you."

She rested her head against Gail’s for a moment, just breathing in the scent of her beautiful, amazing girlfriend.

"Now about this coin toss," she said with a wide smile.

Gail just laughed and reached for the controller as Holly swung her leg over and got settled onto the couch next to her.

"Well, then, nerd," Gail asked, "are you ready for some football?"


End file.
